


Bleed out for you

by LaMarwy



Category: Chilling Adventures of Sabrina (TV 2018)
Genre: Blood, Blood and Injury, Canon Divergence, Complete, Drama, Emotionally Repressed, F/F, Hurt/Comfort, Magic, Prompt Fic, Set: Part Three, Two Shot, Wordcount: 5.000-10.000
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-03-16
Updated: 2021-03-17
Packaged: 2021-03-24 21:41:20
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 2
Words: 7,803
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/30078747
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LaMarwy/pseuds/LaMarwy
Summary: Prompt: In order to protect Zelda, Lilith gets severely injured. Drama ensues (and half-told confessions follow).
Relationships: Zelda Spellman/Mary Wardwell | Madam Satan | Lilith
Comments: 49
Kudos: 75





	1. the woods

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Roy88](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Roy88/gifts).



> My girlfriend is the Lilith of the couple. She wanted a story where the Queen was the hero and saved Zelda, so here it is: Zelda being the nurse of the situation and taking care of her. Lots of unshared emotions cause these two are just adorable, prideful idiots (but not when the times are desperate).
> 
> Disclaimer: rated T for blood & injuries

**BLEED OUT FOR YOU**

PART I - the woods

Trudging into the depth of woods, Zelda muttered a curse under her breath.

She had been regretting that decision since she accepted, moved by some inexplicable loyalty she felt the need to nurture toward the new deity she was supposed to worship.

Lilith was different from the Dark Lord: although the First Woman had always been Zelda Spellman’s first choice as the goddess to worship rather than Lucifer - who seemed to care only for his male devotees - everything had changed.

Because Lilith had the crown now, that was true, and was Queen of Hell, hence rightful receiver of the Coven’s prayers - and hers as well -, but the demoness was also the one who helped the misfortune descend on her family, not to mention her relentless work to beguile Sabrina back into her deceiver father’s arms.

Zelda was practically obliged to hate her guts, despite all. And so Zelda made sure that Lilith knew she was worshipped simply because it was right, but not for gratitude or respect born from actions because there had been none, except relieving her niece from the infernal throne, which was the object of the First Woman’s desires for millennia anyway.  
There was no reason to think Lilith hadn’t acted the way she acted if not for egotistical purposes. The fact that, in the process, Sabrina had been freed from duties that were simply too big for a half-mortal teenager, was a pure coincidence.

Zelda disliked that woman but felt also it was right to be respectful because, after all, she was the one they worshipped. Their relationship had to remain professional, a collaboration between sovereign and priestess: while Lilith was queen in the infernal realm, she was one on earth, directly answering to her in exchange for protection. With the Dark Lord, they had powers too, and that was the main reason why she was stumbling in the woods at midnight, following as the demoness strode deep into the forest, apparently unbothered by her struggle.

She liked to think Lilith didn’t care, that she was there only to find a solution to their current situation, simply to have a reason to complain in her head, so when Lilith turned around almost instinctively, reaching out to offer her hand, one of her boots perched on top of the fallen trunk they needed to climb over, Zelda merely glared at her and tried to do it by herself, refusing help, risking falling off in her much less appropriate choice of shoes.

Lilith winced, hardly resisting the impulse of rolling her eyes, and huffed annoyedly as she actually took in the powerless witch’s pride.

“Why did you bring me here?” Zelda snarled, heaving a small pant when they finally reached a clearing and the demoness seemed to slow down.

At the pale light of the moon, further dimmed by the treetops gently swaying in the cool breeze of the night, the altar was barely visible.

“Here’s the place where Lucifer fell,” Lilith exhaled, voice thick with unshed emotions battling within her, millennia of memories creeping into her mind like billions of howling ghosts. She blinked as if awoken by her daydream and tightened her lips into a bittersweet, patronizing smile, “I bet you know the story.” She almost purred, head tilted to the side.

Unexpectedly, Zelda found herself staring at the subtle movements of her hair, dark curls swinging in the late-night wind.

“I do.” The witch confirmed, her eyes dropping on the swirls that Lilith was tracing on the coarse surface of the altar with her fingertips.

Grazing at it almost affectionately, her hand moved on the ancient rock for a while, until she stopped, her nail tapping at it, blue eyes, almost iridescent at the pale moonlight, snapped up, locking into Zelda’s gaze.

“Devoted Zelda, reading her Satanic Bible every night before bed.” She smiled, her voice just slightly leaning toward a mockery.

Lilith had all the rights to mock her for being so dedicated to such a vile deity - all those centuries wasted since the first time she started praying solely to Lucifer as her father wanted.

“I changed my habits long ago.” She said defensively, crossing her arms over her chest. Frowning, she kept staring, vaguely realizing that the witching hour was almost upon them and keeping that information somewhere in the back of her mind.

“Oh, I know.” Lilith asserted, her blood-coated mouth carrying one of those sardonic, everlasting smirks of hers.

Zelda sighed annoyedly. For a moment, she thought of the possibility of Lilith summoning her in the middle of the night and claiming her presence in the woods because she had something to discuss of being just an excuse, a sickening way to prove the power she now owned over the army of little earthly witches that had no choice but to worship the same woman that, once, had merely been considered the Dark Lord’s concubine.

“Why are we here, Lilith?” She scoffed, “I have more important things to do than strolling in the woods at night... like for instance find a way to get our powers back. If I’m not mistaken, I thought you said you would help.”

“I bet you didn’t know, however, that this is the place where I healed Him.” Lilith began to walk slowly around the altar, her head bobbing gently up and down, completely unaffected by the witch’s words. “Despite being created by the False God, I healed the fallen angel with magic when He wasn’t yet the great Satan, Lord of the Underworld, King of Darkness.”

Zelda narrowed her eyes, utterly confused. She was aware of the inaccuracies of the unholy scriptures, she knew there were flaws in their books, the same she intended to rectify, but that information changed practically everything: Lilith was indeed the First Witch, making all the witches her descendants in some ways, but unlike them, who used to get their powers from the Dark Lord, Lilith had magic of her own, of an entirely different kind. That was why, perhaps, she was immortal and able to create life and do all those miraculous things that made Lucifer keep her near, at His services, for all those millennia.

Perhaps… perhaps, even if not of angelic nature, Lilith could transfer her powers onto them as well. But then again, why hadn’t she done it already? No, Zelda couldn’t get ahead of herself, she needed to know everything.

“I can only partly see where this is going, Lilith. I need you to be more specific on this.” She said, managing to keep her voice straight despite the sheer confusion washing over her. Zelda wasn’t fully sure it was only the wind to make her shiver.

Lilith’s smile dropped suddenly, her eyes darkened. Her whole face, wearing the usual mask of strength and superiority, was now dismal, carrying the tinge shadow of fear. Lilith was _remembering_. She was picturing those days after her creation, what she did, what she felt; she was seeing it all, flashing before her eyes and she was genuinely, unexpectedly scared. And was it regret, that sparkle chasing the other sorrowful emotions on her face?

“To this day, I have close to no clue about the origin of my powers, but I obtained magic and taught myself how to use it.” The brunette sighed, eyes bright in the dead of night. “I offered my help so I was hoping we could find a way for you and your Coven to obtain and grow magic from within you, without the help of a deity supplying it. Like me.”

“Lilith, you turned into a monster.” The other replied, almost automatically.

“That I did.” The demoness nodded, a hint of a bitter smile tugging at her lips.

Seeing her like that, made the witch’s heart clench. Never once in her life, she’d thought about questioning the First Woman’s choice about becoming a powerful demon, the Dawn of Doom, but now that she could see the desolation flaring in those eyes, Zelda was starting to reconsider: power always had a price and maybe, just maybe, Lilith was regretting that choice despite not being able to go back. If she could, would she?

“I’m sorry.” She muttered hurriedly. “I didn’t mean to-”

“It’s the past.” Interjected the demoness. “I’m free now, all my sacrifices have been repaid. At the moment, I’m trying to make it up for all the wrongs I’ve done. Starting with you- _your family_ and your Coven.”

Drawing a long breath, Zelda unfolded her arms from her chest and approached the demoness. She couldn’t help but notice how, despite the similar height they shared, Lilith seemed taller, cloaked by that aura of power and regality shining around her.

Zelda had always thought her magic was powerful, but now that it was nurtured by the infernal realm, it was glowing out of her, extending iridescent fingers outside for everyone able to grasp them and feed on it. If only they could find a way to do that, all their problems will be solved: a way to gather magic and powers and grow them thanks to Lilith herself, in constant communion with their deity, something that had never occurred before.

“Do you think it’s possible?”

“It’s worth a try.” Lilith murmured.

Once again, the demoness reached out with her hand and, this time, Zelda took it, fingers almost naturally interlocking as Lilith guided her close to the altar, putting their connected hands in the middle of it.  
Immediately, a sparkle of electricity sizzled on the inanimate rock.

“What-?”

“The witching hour is upon us.” Lilith breathed in, tilting her head backward toward the dark, celestial vault. “Perhaps whatever entity provided me with power when I most needed magic, will hear our prayers and bless this union.”

“Union?” Zelda replied dumbly, her eyes wide in shock, waiting for the next sparkle.

“Between the infernal realm and Earth.” Lilith confirmed.

Zelda lifted her gaze ever so slowly. Still peering up at the sky, Lilith appeared ethereal, her touch scalding over her hand, and yet her fingers weighed nothing at all over hers. Caught in the waiting for something miraculous to happen, the witch helplessly thought she was simply majestic. She swallowed, considering the idea of abandoning those thoughts, but instead, she dwelled in those, sure that, after all, nobody could have ever exposed her nor the inconvenient thoughts in her mind.

Lilith sighed, her chest expanding beneath her leather coat as she breathed in the cool air.

Zelda wondered if she was truly shielded from her diety’s mind-reading, especially when their hands were linked, when the demoness looked down and a smirk bloomed on her lips; improbable, but not impossible.

“And if this succeeds-” Lilith started, but gasped when another sparkle, stronger and brighter this time, sizzled on the altar and webbed, for a second, over the whole surface, discharging into the ground. “If this succeeds, then it’ll mean that-”

“I would start praying louder.”

Both their heads snapped up, frowning at the source of that unfamiliar voice.

A boy was standing on the small hill a few feet from them, a wide, patronising grin plastered on his mouth. “I don’t think anybody will come to your aid, witches.” He snarled.

Instinctively, Lilith and Zelda unlocked their hands, ready to fend for themselves for any possible attack coming from the intruder.

The redhead didn’t have much magic in her, but she tried to focus her powers nonetheless. Frowning, waiting for her eyes to adjust to the unnatural light coming from behind the boy’s shoulders, she tried to recognize him, and when she failed, she tried to take him in to determine his intentions. Then, she saw it: the blond hair, the dark clothes, the crossbow draped over his back and, if she squinted her eyes, she could also see the faint outline of angelic wings contrasting with the light. They were-

“Witch Hunters.” Lilith scoffed, a mocking tone hanging from her lips. “Really? I thought we were past that.”

In a blink of an eye, a light flashed into their eyes and blinded them for a split second. When the gift of sight came back, the boy was inches away from them.

“The war has just begun.” He grinned. “We were defeated, but now we’re stronger.”

“Alliances have formed already?” Lilith scoffed dismissively.

Witch Hunters were dangerous creatures: shielded against dark magic by their blessed amulets, there was very little a witch could do against them. And yet, somehow, despite being magicless and vulnerable, Zelda felt safe.

In a moment, she watched Lilith extend her arm and, despite not being close enough to physically grab the boy by his neck, he startled to choke. Body in tension, constricting under the crushing pressure of an invisible grasp, he chuckled a laugh.

She didn’t like the situation. Yes, Lilith seemed to have everything under control - what was a single Witch Hunter against the Queen of Hell? - but there was something wrong with it all: why then, why there and how did a Witch Hunter find them, claiming to be stronger after the massacre happened only months ago when Sabrina first discovered her destiny as the infernal herald?

“The enemy of your enemy is your friend, witch, isn’t that what they say?” The boy struggled, her voice coming out strangled from his mouth.

“Witch? I’m not a witch.” Lilith let out an unimpressed giggle. “Not only that, that’s why I’m able to kill you, boy.”

Zelda watched with the corner of her eye the delight blooming into the demoness’s face when he started to actually choke, blood and spit gathering at the corner of his mouth as he struggled to breathe, still.

“We defeated the great Satan.” Lilith went on, tilting her head to the side as she squeezed, making his eyes bulk out. “Tell me, boy, who do you think will stop us?”

With his dying breath, the Witch Hunter smiled. A smile that made Zelda shiver.

“The old ones are coming.” He croaked, his smile growing in size. “You will be doomed, demon.” Practically purposelessly now, he weakly reached behind his back to retrieve his bow. He was dead before he could even touch the wooden tiller.

The horrendous crack of the vertebrae in his neck, as Lilith snapped it with her mind, however, was nothing compared with the inhuman shriek that echoed through the night only a fraction of seconds later.

Zelda had barely time to register it coming from Lilith before being pushed harshly to the ground. Shocked and confused, heart thumping like a mad horse into her chest, she tried to instinctively cushion her fall with her hands and landed on the cold ground padded with dead leaves.

Short of breath, she hastily rolled over her back, but fear pinned her to the ground.

In horror, she saw a dagger shining at the silvery moonlight, its blade covered in fresh, dripping blood. The girl yielding the weapon - platinum hair floating in the wind, bloodstained eyes and a crossbow draped on her back - raised her arm again, and Lilith, half writhing in pain as she tried in vain to reach the wound between her shoulder blades, half turned toward Zelda from when the demoness pushed her away, could do nothing to prevent the dagger from plunging a second time into her body, right in the middle of her chest.

Another feral scream, though muffled this time, with a growl of pure rage coming from the depth of her throat.

Another crack of bones when the girl’s neck snapped, leaving her head hanging behind her back at an awkward, macabre angle before her lifeless body fell to the ground.

With her, Lilith, too, fell.

On her knees, trembling hands pressing over the flow of thick blood gushing out of the wound, the Queen of Hell stood breathlessly, eyes wide in disbelief and pain shaking her fragile form.

Zelda took a moment to stir from her dazzlement, her empty mind getting flooded with all kinds of contrasting thoughts and emotions; fear, for the most part, but also dread and something entirely different that she couldn’t nor had the time to grasp or discern.

Messily pushing herself off the ground, she hurried to an injured Lilith, adrenaline and panic taking a toll on her limbs and making her trip more than one time in the short distance between them. When she arrived, Zelda wasted no time to drop to her knees as well, scared, frenzy eyes boring into Lilith’s bleary ones.

“You’re _bleeding_!” She stated obviously, her voice quivering unexpectedly. “Why aren’t you healing?”

“Witch Hunters’ blades are made to break in the flesh.” Lilith stated, a painful chuckle shaking her body. “I still am the First among Witches, hence I suffer the effects of blessed silver.” She explained, the last part of the sentence coming out in a wheeze before Lilith began to sway and, a moment later, she collapsed forward.

Zelda promptly caught her, instinctively cradling her back and head against her, wincing when she felt the hot stream soiling immediately in her hand. She didn’t know if Lilith had simply no strength in her, if the blade was suckling life away or if she simply had decided to abandon in her hold, but the demoness fell limply against her, almost relaxing into the unexpected embrace.

The witch felt her heart constricting despite its mad thumping, and fear rising into her throat and throb inside her head, almost painfully, clouding her eyes.

“You knew she was coming,” She swallowed, a strangled sob hardly contained beep in her throat, “why did you push me away, you could’ve killed her right away, and instead-”

“She would have come for you.” Lilith coughed, her whole body quaking. “Even if you had powers, you wouldn't stand a chance.”

Feeling her grow even heavier against her shoulder, Zelda leaned forward, gently laying her limp body into the ground. Blood was pouring already into the dirt from the wound in her back, while the gash in her front, still loosely compressed by her own folded hands, kept soaking into her clothes.

Trembling, Zelda reached out and pushed away Lilith’s hands to press into the wound herself, wincing in sympathy when the demoness let out a weak lament.

“You didn’t get a better one, apperently.” She tried to think of something, but nothing came to mind: they had just been attacked by Witch Hunters and Lilith had been injured. Lilith had been injured because of her, because she was a simple witch - with no powers no less - and instead of think for herself, instead of on unleashing her violence, her feral nature against her enemies, she’d think of Zelda’s safeness first and got hit in the process; twice, and it was bad.

The redhead swallowed thickly, her sight becoming even more blurred than before.

“But they’re dead?” Lilith asked all of the sudden, eyes wide open, unblinking, searching right, left, for any sign of foreign life. 

“They’re dead.” Zelda confirmed, but her voice came out strangled.

Silently, she watched the demoness closing her eyes once, allowing herself to rest just for a split second, before staring up into the black sky without really seeing.

Swallowing a wretched sob threatening to erupt from the depth of her, Zelda dabbed the back of her free hand on her mouth, eyes searching around frenziedly though she was already aware that nobody would have come there, that they were alone, that _she_ was alone, facing that catastrophe.

She scoffed in frustration, feeling completely lost, regret and guilt and hopelessness chasing each other inside her head and chest in rapid succession and she would have screamed and yelled and unleashed all her wrath if she could, but the soft, strangled laughter coming from beneath her got her completely puzzled.

“Well, what an unfortunate way to go.” Lilith coughed again, her crimson lips getting spotted with fresher, redder coating from the corners to the cleft in the middle. “I was created from the dirt and I will die in the dirt.”

Puzzlement got fastly replaced by anger when Zelda pressed deeper her hand against her chest. The obnoxious wet noise of drenched fabric being compressed and new thick blood cascading from it into the ground made her shiver.

“You are _not_ dying, Lilith!” She countered, as firmly as she could muster, even though her voice trembled desperately.

Lilith blinked wearily, as if she was struggling to keep her eyes open, a strange pallor overcoming her skin while her body jerked because of powerful shivers.

“I’m as old as time, Zelda,” she smiled tiredly, a shuddering breath coming from her slightly parted lips, “don’t you think I should know?”

Dread knocked the wind out of her lungs, her eyes started to prick, her breath came shallow and uneven, her stomach began to cramp.

“I can help.” She wheezed. “I can heal you.”

Lilith shook her head softly. “You don’t have magic.” She pointed out.

“I have some,” the other retorted stubbornly, wiping the cold perspiration gathered on her upper lip, “Allow me to try at least.”

Tension held. The witch peered down into those unfocused pools of blackness where the familiar blue had almost completely disappeared and, despite the situation, she was stunned by the intensity of the demoness’s gaze.

Her brow pinched, the tip of her tongue ran over her lips, she coughed and licked the fresh blood away.

She kept staring and heaved a small sigh, head tilted to the side.

“Zelda, you’re crying.”

The redhead didn’t flinch away when Lilith reached out to touch her face, willing to collect the salty drops off the underside of her eyes but ending up smearing warm blood on her cheek.

Zelda gulped down a sob. “Allow me.” She insisted.

Trying to ignore the muffled whimpers that Lilith wasn’t able to conceal anymore, she slid one hand under her neck and looped her other arms around her waist, warning the demoness to press on the wound on her chest while she scooted closer. Zelda swallowed thickly when she realized that the brunette’s hands had hardly any strength left.

Just like she did when Sabrina was little and afraid of a nightmare and helplessly clung to her while she shivered and whimpered, utterly spent, Zelda held Lilith close to her and tried with all her might to summon all the bits of magic left in her - and a part of her, she prayed for some connection with Lilith’s so that the beaming could succeed: she needed to get her somewhere safe; she needed to get them both some place quiet and protected where she could find a solution to that mess.

“Lilith, stay with me.” She murmured, shaking her limp form. “Lilith?”

When the demoness blinked blearily at her, she unconsciously held her tighter, her fingers widening and digging into her soiled tresses to better support her head. Her heart sank when she saw that red mouth twitch into the ghost of a smile and, hopelessly, she returned it. “Think of home, I’ll get you there.”


	2. the cottage

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> insta: lamarwy_ao3

PART II - the cottage

_ Lanuae Magicae _

Zelda braced herself to be transported into Hell.  
At one point, she even thought they would find themselves in the Wastelands, or back in the woods where the False God had thrown her to Earth after being banned from the Garden; she even thought that, in the throes of pain and confusion, her own mind would have overpowered Lilith’s and they would find themselves home at the mortuary, with her family in their pajamas looking shocked at the Queen of Hell bleeding out on the carpet.

But no.

Nothing of that: Zelda had thought about millions of possibilities, but none of them included a secluded cottage in the depth of the woods, cold and dark and lonely as they come.

At first, the redhead witch held her breath as she instinctively held Lilith’s limp form closer to her chest. Underneath them, instead of the dank soil of dried mud and dead leaves, there were the soft bristles of a carpet. The moonbeams seeping through the half-closed window were barely enough to discern the outline of furniture, the empty fireplace, and the stony silence that lingered in that house, which made Zelda believe it was either empty or altogether abandoned.

“Where are we?” She inquired, brow furrowed as she whipped her head right and left, ready to explain the absurd situation to whatever mortal would have come down the stairs with a gun in their hands. None of that happened.

Instead, Lilith heaved a shaky sigh.   
“Mary Wardwell’s cottage.” She mumbled, swallowing thickly. She winced, then shook her head. “I- I don’t know, I just-”

“Okay.” Zelda shushed, her heart clenching a bit as she took in the surroundings: that place was indeed cold, and dark and lonely and not even her own but of the woman from whom she stole her appearance for months, and yet, Lilith deemed it home. Millennia of existence and _that_ was her home. “Lie down.”

Vaguely remembering that Sabrina had hinted about her teacher’s brief vacation out of town to pay a visit to some distant relatives, Zelda blindly pawed at the couch to tug a few pillows on the floor.

Still sitting on her haunches and completely untroubled by the stains of blood she was surely leaving everywhere, she settled the pillows on the carpet and gently guided Lilith to lie down on them. She made sure the demoness looked at least comfortable and threw the tartan blanket over her shivering body.

“You should go back to your family.” She heard Lilith croak.

Frozen in the action of standing up to search for something useful in that place and retrieve some valuable loot, Zelda frowned and shook her head slightly, puzzled.

“I can’t just leave you.” She whispered, stating the obvious.

“The Kings of Hell will fight against each other for the throne.” The First Woman sighed, heavy eyes closing surely of their own volition. “They will come to you: killing the Coven who betrayed the Dark Lord will likely be the last challenge to win the crown... they're too dumb to pursue the Regalia. You must be ready.”

“You are Queen, Lilith.” Zelda stated stubbornly. “There won’t be any challenges nor any race to claim the infernal crown because you won’t-”

“Don’t lie to yourself.” The other countered, unwavering, unlike her voice.

Choosing to ignore the remark, Zelda stood up on shaky legs and ventured inside the empty cottage. Flicking the lights on, she rummaged through the bathroom cabinets and retrieved the first aid kit, rubbing alcohol, bandages, she yanked towels from their racks and grabbed the pair of scissors from the drawer in the kitchen on her way back.

Dropping to her knees by Lilith’s side, she settled everything within reach on the carpet, bearing in mind to find a way to light up the mantelpiece as soon as she got the wound on the demoness’s back patched.

Zelda was so deep in her thoughts - listing over and over all the things she needed to do - that when she noticed that Lilith had her eyes closed, dread started to spread in her chest. A rivulet of dried blood stained a corner of her mouth, her skin pale under the dim light of the lamp nearby, and, for a moment, the thought of Death coming to collect yet another life crossed her mind with vibrant reality.

Then she saw the subtle movement in her neck, the shuddering rise and fall of her chest under the blanket, and Zelda allowed herself to breathe.

“I’m alive.” Lilith murmured. “Still, you shouldn’t trouble yourself.”

Deaf to the Queen’s words, Zelda carefully unpeeled the blanket off her body. New blood had gushed out of the wound, her clothes were drenched with it, and the carpet was bearing a growing puddle of crimson liquid. She wondered how much could a woman - demoniac or not - still take.

“I need to try.” She said sternly, though the witch was uncertain to whom she was talking to. Grabbing the scissors - the dried blood on her own fingers making her grip slippery on the metal - she started to cut through the leather jacket with surgical precision: first one sleeve, then the other, and in the end the tight burgundy dress she was wearing underneath, until the fabric hanged purposelessly over her body, staying on merely due to gravity.

“You're aware that the tip of the dagger is still inside?” Lilith coughed, the smile on her lips everlasting, which made the redhead shiver. She knew that, of course she did, and she was already thinking about how to get it out before treating the injuries.

Concern was eating her from the inside, while Lilith… she seemed calm.  It was almost as if the demoness was waiting for an old friend to come and get her, the death she’d delayed for millennia finally arrived and she was not scared. Lilith was ready. Like she knew something that remained obscure to the High Priestess.

Perhaps the pain was becoming too much and she only desired Death as mercy: the fact that she wasn’t screaming meant very little.

“I know.” Zelda cleared her throat. “I need to patch the wound on your back first, or you’ll bleed out before I can even attempt anything.”

Drawing a sharp breath, she leaned over the demoness and gently prompt her to unlatch her hands from her wound - she was hardly pressing down anyway - and then, ever so carefully, she slid one arm under her neck and the other on the small of her back, trying to pull her up.

Lilith groaned in pain and the witch tried to be quicker, straightening her back and pulling them both into a sitting position. She felt her eyes pricking when she felt Lilith helplessly leaning into her, her limp body growing heavier on Zelda’s chest as she settled her head on her shoulder, brow pressed on the crook of her neck. 

How weak she must feel to simply stay there, resting on her chest, breathing unevenly on her exposed clavicle. How much in pain she must be to allow a witch - one that should’ve been an old enemy nonetheless - to take care of her.

Where did her bite go, where did her strength disappear? Was really death coming for her? No, not under Zelda Spellman’s watch.

Determination flashing over her face, she wiped away some dampness that had gathered on her cheeks, and settled Lilith in a way that she wouldn’t need any extra support from her arms or hands, completely resting against her chest.

Quickly, with precision and care, she unpeeled the ruined clothes off her back and started to clean the wound with what she had. With shaky hands she removed the dirt from the raw edges, relieved that it only seemed a superficial cut; she wiped away the dried blood and applied some butterfly stitches to curb the heavy bleeding. It worked, and Zelda felt her heart leap when only a few stains of red seeped through the thick bandage she applied on her back to protect the wound.

Swallowing sand, she tilted her head back in utter dismay when she reminded herself that the hard part had still had to come. And what if the situation was truly hopeless? What if she couldn’t help her in any way?

Zelda had never dealt with blessed silver, before. Zelda had never dealt with an injured demon, before. Zelda was acquainted with keeping Death at bay, only she knew how many babies she’d saved during her career, but never before it had felt so important: m aybe it was because of the dynamics, maybe it was because it was about their Queen, maybe because if she didn’t succeed in saving her, all the Coven was doomed, but Zelda felt utterly lost, she felt scared, she felt lonely.

“Don’t blame yourself.”

Zelda blinked a few times when Lilith’s voice lapped her ear. She didn’t even notice she was clinging to her quivering body, her arms looped around her soiled middle, her head carelessly resting atop Lilith’s into an unforeseeable embrace.

“I need to save you.” Zelda stirred, one of her hands trailing up until she cradled the nape of her neck, gently supporting her head. “I need to try.” She echoed herself, stubbornly.

Leaning her back down, she frowned, struggling to ward off the unsettling heat that settled low in her chest when she tugged off the remaining clothes off her chest, the fabric bouncing purposelessly around her waist.

Swallowing, blindly grabbing the tweezers and hovering her hand over that bloodied chest, Zelda paused. Breathing slowly, she watched Lilith’s eyes flutter open, bright with tears and yet scarily glassy beneath, fading of the ancient light that used to sparkle there.

“You’re the first person who doesn’t leave.” She breathed out. Another cough quacked through her body and fresh blood spilled from her mouth.

Hurriedly, Zelda wiped her lips with the back of her hand, their gazes locked together.

“I won’t leave.” The words came out on their own volition. Zelda felt her cheeks aflame when Lilith, despite all, gave her an exhausted smile.

Bracing herself, the witch asked pointlessly if she was ready, and plunged the tweezers into the wound, working hazily to pull the silver shard off her flesh.   
Tears spilled from Zelda’s eyes and Lilith’s agonizing screeches died into the night.

Lilith had lost consciousness a moment before she'd removed the tip of the blade.

If she had to think about those moments, Zelda couldn’t discern reality from her imagination. It was all so confused and blurry and her movements hadn’t been her own: almost as if she was looking at someone else eradicate the offending shard from the wound, rummage through the old cookie tin to retrieve needle and thread to sew the bloody, raw edges of the wound back together, she wondered how could a human-skin enclosure could bleed so much and still affect the demoness underneath; in haste, Zelda had patched her up, wrapped a tight bandage around her chest, and sponged the dried blood off her skin before pulling the blanket up and light the fireplace in hope Lilith would stop shivering even in her unconscious state.

Zelda was scrubbing the blood off her hands right now. Unable to stop the stream of angry, frenzy tears that were still streaming down her cheeks, she kept rinsing her fingers under the scalding water, scratching at the underside of her nails, her eyes frantically turning over her shoulder to check if Lilith was still breathing.

Even now, she could smell the metallic tinge of blood in her nostrils. She could feel its warm thickness sticking to the palms of her hands.

She wasn’t cut out for that. It was Hilda, the caring one of the family, she the one to comfort the wounded and the desperate ones.

Zelda wasn’t sure she could handle death well. She'd realized she feared it long ago but made sure to forget it, masterfully concealed behind her mask of authority and hash solemnity - here she had no mask because she had no strength left in her to keep it on her face.

Only five minutes before, she’d sobbed, unable to stop, hysterically, as her thoughts wandered to her sister, panic rising in her when she noticed there were no phones in that damn house to warn her family about Witch Hunters and the possible turmoil that would’ve unleashed in Hell if she failed to keep the Queen alive.

But then she had gasped, an invisible grip knocking the wind out of her lungs: she couldn’t have her dead. No matter how hard she had to try, Zelda couldn’t let her die. Because she was her deity, she was the Queen of Hell, she had the knowledge that would possibly save them all, because… because it was Lilith and she simply could not die and leave Zelda there, all alone, to face the impossible.

There was so much blood.

If she thought of it right now, Zelda believed she could actually lose her mind.

Fastening the robe she’d stolen from Mary Wardwell's wardrobe because she couldn’t stand wearing her blood-soaked clothes anymore, she grabbed the glass filled with fresh water and cautiously lowered herself down on the carpet.

Lilith was laying still, head tilted to the side on the pillow, lips slightly ajar; her breaths had turned into weak wheezes as she rested, not yet roused once after hours. Her bare shoulders kept shaking and the stained bandages peeked out from the hem of the blanket as a wicked reminder of what had just happened.

She almost looked peaceful, and the thought sent a wave of dread right into her brain: the First Woman, Dawn of Doom, self-made demoness was a creature of chaos, and not once in her life she’d seen her at peace. Not even when she’d posed as Sabrina’s teacher, feging meekness and compassion, there was an aura of brutality around her, which was the same that Zelda had felt and found fetching about her. It was gone now, completely.

Zelda swallowed a strangled sob when she noticed that the sweat she’d wiped off her brow only minutes ago had come back more copious than before, perspiration resting like dew on every inch of her exposed skin, seeping through her damp tresses and mixing with the remains of dried blood.

Carefully, she tried to slither her hand under her head and support it while she brought the brim of the glass close to her lips. She didn’t want the demoness to get dehydrated after the amount of blood she’d lost, and that was only one of the things she was concerned about: starting from the unnatural pallor that teetered toward green, or the bluish hue of her lips - both painfully visible after she'd sponged away the make-up -, to the fact that her breath became shallower by the minute.

“Lilith?” She called softly, hoping that she would come back to her senses, now. She was proven unsuccessful. “Lilith, you have to drink something.” She tried again, tilting just slightly the glass so that the water would touch her lips.

No reaction. No reaction whatsoever. The only thing that she obtained was a new thread of blood coming out the corner of her mouth.

A wretched sob erupted from the depth of her chest and, feeling completely lost, she let desperation take over.

The glass flung into the fireplace and broke into pieces, the water sizzling on the log, evaporating instantly into white smoke while the fire roared and stabilized once again.

It wasn’t supposed to go like this.

Lowering Lilith back into the makeshift bed, feeling suddenly utterly spent, Zelda followed; with her forehead resting on the demoness’s chest, breaths fading into the blanket, the witch allowed herself to finally cry. Hot, copious, salty tears weighing on her lashes and spilling on the coarse fabric.

It wasn’t supposed to go like this because she was the one who was supposed to get stabbed and not the other way around.

Because while Lilith was valuable, Zelda was not. Zelda was replaceable, Lilith was indispensable. Lilith needed to survive this because Zelda could’ve never lived with the guilt of being the cause of her departure.

It wasn’t fair. If she hadn’t asked for the demoness’s aid, if she hadn’t acted so stubborn and hard to get all the time, if only she had been more careful, attentive, less caught up in her purposeless admiration, none of that would’ve happened.

Lilith got stabbed because of her. Lilith got distracted because Zelda had no powers, because she hadn’t been quick enough to acknowledge the danger, and now-  _ now  _ the demoness was the one walking on the thin line between life and death.

“ _ Please- _ ” She hiccupped, crumpling the blanket into her fist. She didn’t even know what she was begging for, but she didn’t want Lilith to die, plain and simple. Why? It didn’t matter. She couldn’t just go, not like that.

Zelda needed more time. Time to elaborate, time to find a solution, time to tell her, just in case, because nobody deserved to be born, live and die without knowing each beauty that there was to savor.

She was tired; exhausted, to be precise, and not only physically. Because now that she was so close to losing everything, her emotions seemed to scream inside her, and the ones she struggled to keep inside, hidden, the ones she tried to forget with very little success, were now even louder than the others.

“Lilith, please-” Before she knew, she was breathing hard into the blanket, her body quaking with her sobs. “You can’t-” Desperately, she nuzzled her face into the soft fabric, feeling incredibly helpless and exposed.

What if she died, then what? Zelda could pretend and denied all she wanted but if her hour had come, there was nothing she could ever try to stop it. And then she would be alone.

Alone in that house, mourning the goddess she betrayed all those years ago and, lately, she kept afar and felt the urge to despise. Alone in the world, to face the responsibilities of dozens of lives depending on her. Alone to face the unknown of a new Era where Lucifer had fallen again, this time rejected by his own subject, where magic disappeared and hope was lost.

Zelda was alone and only Lilith, the First Woman, once banned from her original home, could understand her fear. What if she went, then, what would become of her? Mortals, witches, nor even demons were created to remain alone.

She promised Lilith she wouldn’t leave her, but what about her? Lilith didn’t promise the same. She  _ had  _ to make that promise. Zelda needed to know, she needed to have the certainty that Lilith would stick around.

“You can’t leave.” She muffled another broken sob into the blanket, her hand fisting tighter at the fabric. “You can’t leave me.”

She couldn’t pretend anymore. She couldn’t feign hate when there was loyalty and respect, where there was genuine admiration and trust.

Since the first time she knocked at the manor and revealed herself, Zelda had seen right through her and found the inexplicable urge to belong to something: the infernal throne, Hell, the crown, those were her rights, but Lilith sought for something more. She wanted and needed people around her, people who could understand her.

With the Coven, with  _ her _ , Lilith was stronger. She knew that; even when she had the Witch Hunter in her grasp, she kept referring to their collective victory over Lucifer, never just her own; like the throne of Hell just didn’t belong solely to her.

Zelda understood. Zelda sought power herself, but it all was meaningless without somebody to celebrate your victory with. Her family was great, but they didn’t understand. Lilith, on the other hand, did.

They were one and the same, and for that reason, they sought each other. Feigned hate, tolerance, but neither one of them could deny the captivation between them. At least, Zelda couldn’t ignore it anymore.

Lilith arrived into her life unexpectedly, but now that she was in, Zelda didn’t want her to let her go. She had been a fool, like always. History repeating itself: pride overcoming emotions and Zelda wasting valuable time in meaningless deeds, letting the important things slip through her fingers like grains of sand.

Zelda kept sobbing, unbothered by the tears streaming down her face freely now, and she barely registered the deeper breath that shook Lilith’s body beneath her.

Like a touch of a feather, she felt something weighing on her head, soft fingers winding through her hair.

“Zelda, you don’t have to cry.”

Slowly, she lifted her head from the demoness’s chest. Blinking away warm tears, she couldn’t suppress another sob when she saw Lilith’s hooded eyes peering down at her, the phantom of a smile blooming on her chapped lips.

“You’re awake.” She stated, her hand reaching instinctively up as she scooted closer, closely inspecting her face. Her palm felt cooler against the First Woman’s scalding cheek, but she was relieved that when her thumb wiped the sweat off her upper lip, it didn’t form back right away like before.

“For now.” The other replied tiredly.

“It’s not fair,” Zelda wiped her face angrily with her other hand, shaking her head slowly. “I- I thought I had time.” She should’ve been ashamed of looking so broken and hysterical in front of her Queen, but in reality, she didn’t care. She didn’t care one bit if Lilith was seeing her crying - and crying over _her_ among all things: it was time for her to know. Because, if not now, then when?

“Time for what?” Lilith frowned, her body quaking with another coughing fit that Zelda tried to quench with soft shushings, her hand splayed reassuringly over her chest, pressing down on her wound in the hope to give her some relief.

“Why?” She inquired, her voice trembling. “It should’ve been me.” She stated, her jaw clenched as she tried to suppress the string of whimpers that threatened to escape her mouth. “You cannot die because of me.”

“I would happily die for you, Zelda.”

When the cold, limp hand, reached out to touch her cheek, the witch instinctively leaned into the touch, covering her hand with her own. She didn’t know if Lilith needed something to cling to, what she did know was that she herself needed something to cling to… but not just something, Lilith. And so she did, she clung to her hand, to her touch, to her very voice.

“I had to save you because you’re  _ not  _ replaceable.”

“There’s so much I need to tell you.” Zelda swallowed hard, fresh tears streaming down her cheeks, thick with unshared secrets about to be revealed.

“It will be alright.” Lilith croaked out, her voice dimming away. “Just- lay with me, for now? It’s getting cold.”

Zelda nodded against her hand. Carefully, she lowered herself down and did the unthinkable: she scooted closer and held Lilith; the same person she claimed to hate, the same she begged and prayed not to leave her alone right now.

“Lilith?” She breathed into her hair, her lips moving against the shivering skin of her neck. “Promise me the same. You owe me that.”

She felt her hand being grasped into a weak hold, pulled over the demoness’s chest, right over the subtle, uneven beating of her tired heart. She didn’t specify what the promise was about, but was it necessary?

“I promise.” She murmured, head tilting toward the witch. "I won't leave you alone."

Lilith was still smiling and Zelda, after watching her fall asleep, smiled too; because despite everything, she knew Lilith always kept her promises.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> There it is, hope you enjoyed the story! Please **leave a comment** to brighten my day 💖


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